


After Image

by CelesteJEvans



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Loneliness, Longing, Minor Sexual Fantasizing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 19:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18947428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteJEvans/pseuds/CelesteJEvans
Summary: If she closes her eyes, for a moment, he's back with her.Set post S4 finale.Chloe misses Lucifer. Plain and simple.





	After Image

**Author's Note:**

> I recently binged all of Lucifer and am now madly in love. This piece came to me after watching the finale of S4 and imagining how much Chloe would miss Lucifer in her daily life.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :-)

It was a normal day. It had to be. Just like any other day where she woke up and for a brief moment, Lucifer hadn’t gone back to hell and they’d been able to have a relationship and she didn’t feel utterly alone. If she kept her eyes closed, she could imagine an arm coming around her midsection to hold her close. If she breathed in deeply enough, she could smell his aftershave - one he’d stopped wearing since being with Eve but she could still remember how it filled her head with temptation - especially in their early days. Quintessential Lucifer. If she thought about it really hard and didn’t move, then he was back.

But the fantasy soon passed and she got out of bed to answer the ringing cell phone on her nightstand. She tried to smooth down her bed head as she spoke into the phone and listened to the information about her newest case. Perfect. A murder would be exactly what she needed. She got dressed and left, after making a call to Olga so Trixie could get to school on time. Early morning murders were not her favourite for precisely that reason: she hated not being there when Trixie woke up. But the one thing she needed today was a good distraction and a 10-year-old asking questions just wouldn’t do it. So she kissed her sleeping daughter and left.

The drive to the crime scene was quick. Without mindless chatter or a secret anticipation, time moved at a normal pace, ushering her to the next location without incident. It felt wrong.

Before she crossed the yellow line between herself and her career, she paused. One deep breath and she dove in, focusing what attention she could muster on the dead body in the middle of the construction site.

“What do we got?”

Ella smiled up from her position at the body’s head, taking another photograph as she spoke. “Vanessa Helman, 26. She was the founder of Out There, a truthers magazine.”

“Truthers? As in”

“People who believe in aliens, conspiracies”

“The devil.” Chloe mumbled, her own personal joke. But not quietly enough from the quizzical look from the young scientist.

“That one’s a little different.”

“Right.” The detective cleared her throat, eager to move on. “Cause of death?”

“She was stabbed in the neck with something thick and cylindrical.”

“Don’t!” She knew what he was going to say so she threw a hand up to stop him.

Ella paused from her work to look up at Chloe with concern. “Don’t what?”

Right.

“Oh.” He wasn’t here. “Just.” She was alone. “If Lucifer was here, he’d make some sexual comment about something thick and cylindrical and probing.” Her friend continued to stare and though she knew how pathetic she sounded, she had to explain. “Because of the aliens.”

Bless Ella for going on with her work without any pitying looks. She couldn’t keep doing that - forgetting that he was gone. The fantasies had to stay at home. “Right. Anyways.” The young investigator gave her a sideways glance but continued. “A construction worker discovered the body when he came in this morning. We called her sister: Meghan Helman. She lived with Vanessa but she was at work so she’s on her way over now.”

“Thanks, Ella.” The detective took her cue to leave before she embarrassed herself further - though it was likely too late. She had to get a grip on reality. She had a murder to solve and just this once, she’d have to do it on her own. No handsome devils sitting on her shoulder today. _Chloe get a grip!_

* * *

The more she worked, the better she felt. She questioned witnesses, confirmed forensics, did her paperwork, and not once did she thinking about her absentee love. Not the quirky comments he’d be offering, or the deductive leaps she’d have to talk him down from. Or the gourmet donuts he always seemed to order. Or the warmth that radiated when he sat a little too close to read her files. Or the hairs that stood up on the back of her neck when he whispered something relevant to the case like it was the sexiest secret he had. Or

“Detective?” A soothing British accent jolted her from her thoughts and she looked up, ready to throw her arms around him.

“Lucifer?” The confused new transfer jumped back with the force of her expectant eyes. “Oh.” Chloe released her shoulders. Of course it wasn’t who she wanted it to be. But it was still a place of business so she cleared her throat. “Yes?”

“Your suspect is in the interrogation room.”

She couldn’t meet the officer’s eyes for fear of blushing to death but she nodded politely. “Thank you, Ryles.”

Alone again, she dropped her head into her hands. How could she have done that? Been so eager. Like a teenager waiting for the phone to ring so she could pick it up before her parents’ did. She was caught thinking about him. Again. This couldn’t keep happening. She growled in frustration, shaking her head of all thoughts of things she couldn’t have.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” She looked up to find a familiar face smiling back. How did Ella know exactly when she needed words of encouragement? “You know how he gets. He disappears for a few weeks and then he comes back like nothing’s wrong.” If only that were true.

“It’s different this time.” She confessed. “There was, uh, something at home that only he could take care of.” She was starting to understand how using these half truths couldn’t cover the extent of the situation. While technically not a lie - he would approve - it wasn’t the same. “I don’t know if he can come back.” It didn’t quite explain the empty feeling that sank through her body as the realization hit her.

Ella cocked her head but kept her smile, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah you said that. I just can’t believe he’d up and leave like that.”

“He didn’t exactly have a choice.” The detective snapped, her hands falling to the desk a little louder than she expected.

The scientist flinched a little but bowed her head to make eye contact. “I’m sorry, Chloe.”

It was enough to make her breath, or at least exhale her frustration. She even smiled a little. “No, I’m sorry.”

Her friend extended a hand to place on hers, a gesture of comfort. “It’s okay to miss him, you know.”

How did she do that? How could she always make her feel better. “Thank you, Ella.”

And suddenly, her familiar kinetic energy was back. “Hey,” She clapped her hands to break the moment. “I was wondering, if you were up for it, maybe we could”

“Not tonight.” She knew exactly what Ella wanted but she couldn’t. As much as she wanted to drink away her troubles and forget for a few hours, she knew now that drinking only made it worse. “Rain check?” She smiled in apology. 

Her friend smiled in return. “Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Right now,” Chloe pushed herself up, suppressing any left over feelings down through the desk. “I need to question Vanessa’s partner.”

* * *

There was nothing left to do today. She’d questioned Paul, their current prime suspect in the case. Though wanting sole ownership of a minor magazine hardly seemed like the strongest motive for murder, it was all they had at the moment. They were at a dead end - no more puns, Lucifer - and now, she needed to go home and rest so she could come back with fresh eyes tomorrow.

But first, she had to make a quick stop.

Lux was quiet now. The lights off, the tables collecting dust. Or it would except she pulled out a rag from behind the bar and began to wipe everything down. _It needs to be nice and clean when he returns._ She paused over the last table. _If he returns._ After a quick sweep of the floors that had so many stories to tell, she headed for the elevator.

The penthouse needed little care. The bed was made, the garbage replaced, the bar restocked; a quick dust and she could go home.

As she made her way around the room, she allowed just a few moments of memories to flood back. Waking up in his bed after a drunken bender twice, to find him an unexpected gentleman. Their grilled cheese date. Partying with Linda and Dan instead of facing her feelings. So many shouting matches. Fantasizing about kissing him on the sofa. The night he said goodbye.

Her fingers brushed the piano and a low B filled the silence. Without a thought, she slid onto the bench and ghosted her fingertips over the keys until she found the right one. As the top line of  Heart and Soul gently sang through the empty room, she looked down and imagined the lower notes accompanying her. She could almost hear the music, feel the warmth of her partner sitting beside her, imagine he was with her. The simple song reminded her of the man she’d fallen in love with - vulnerable and sweet - and the dark angel he’d turned out to be. She didn’t regret learning the truth. Only the wasted time. She continued to play, hoping to revive more kind memories but it didn’t last long. A chorus or two and she looked over to find herself alone once again. The music stopped. It took two shaking hands to close the lid.

“Enough.”

And she went home.

Standing in the shower, she washed the day away. All thoughts of the case, of him, of them. It all had to go if she was going to get any sleep tonight. She ran two hands through her hair, slowly massaging a small dab or conditioner. Her fingers worked through her scalp, gathering her hair atop her head.

_If he were here, he’d kiss your neck._

Her eyes slowly opened, banishing the thought. With a long, careful breath, she continued to wash her hair, absolving it of the day’s grime and sin.

_He would massage your hair._

Stop.

_Maybe pull it a little._

She finished rinsing her hair and moved on to her neck and shoulders, ignoring the desire to feel his hands on hers; working her flesh, the knots in her muscles disappearing under his touch. She worked her way lower, her arms, her stomach, all succumbing to his touch. Her breath hitched as he moved lower, fingers brushing her hips and encircling her waist.

_He pulls you close. Tight against his front._

She’s seen what he looks like underneath those tailored trousers. The temptation was not unwarranted.

When she closed her eyes, she could lean against his chest and feel solid arms around her, holding her close, teasing her mercilessly.

_The devil’s in the details._

She released a laughing cry as she felt the words tripping off his tongue and landing against her skin. His ring was cold against her warming skin, an easy marker to track his journey down her body. Every place he touched, he left a fire in its wake. Her breath became more frantic, anticipation filling her with desire. Just a little lower and

“Mom?”

Chloe’s knees buckled from the rush to reality. She steadied herself on the bathtub edge as she caught her breath.

“Hi, Monkey.” She called out to her impatient daughter. Trixie was home from school. She had a job to do now. “I’m just in the shower.”

“Okay.”

Once the girl’s footsteps were gone, Chloe pulled herself up and washed her face, trying to scrub away any left over temptation.

_Focus, Chloe, focus._

Enough was enough.

She grabbed a towel on her way out of the shower and tried not to miss the warmth of her fantasy.

A few hours and a decadent piece of chocolate cake later, the two were cuddled on the couch watching reruns of Henry Danger. Though she’d never admit it, there were times she found herself invested in the program - despite it’s inaccuracies. But she was in love with the actual Devil so what constituted as real anymore? If angels were real, why couldn’t superheroes be roaming the streets of Swellsville? Chloe hugged her daughter closer as they watched the young boy’s adventures. Her hair smelled like flowers. Lilacs? When Trixie was a baby, she always had this earthy scent. Like she had just been playing in the garden - and knowing her, she probably had snuck out in the middle of the night to play in the dirt. Her daughter was a natural-born rebel and having Lucifer around hadn’t made her any better.

_But it made you better with her._

Perhaps. More relaxed. More trusting. More anxious about the dangers of the world but more assured that there were dangerous...people...who would do anything to protect her. It was oddly comforting to know that she had a demon on her side. And an angel. And the devil. What if people came after Trixie the way they came after Charlie? Dangerous people have already tried to hurt her and with Lucifer gone what was to stop others from trying?

_Relax. You’ve still got Maze. And Amenadeil. And a gun. Depending on the bad guy, you’re good to go._

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, Trix?” She allowed her daughter to pull her back to reality. She really was a special girl.

“When is Lucifer coming back?”

That did it. Her question was so earnest it broke her heart to even think of a reassuring lie. So she didn’t. As Kid Danger continued his shenanigans, the detective pulled her daughter to a sitting position facing her.

“Sweetie, I don’t know that he is coming back. He has something he needs to do back home and it could be forever.”

Trixie seemed to think about this for a moment before finally deciding. “He’ll be back.”

“You sound sure.” What was this feeling burning light as an ember?

“I am.” The young girl declared. “He owes me money.”

A laugh was exactly what she needed right now so she tugged her daughter onto her lap and tickled her for a few seconds. “Is that so?” God knows what he owed her money for but who was she to deny that spark of hope? Their giggles broke through any sadness of the moment as they landed in a heap on the couch. After a a few moments of happiness, she slapped Trixie’s hip in finality. “Alright. Bedtime.”

* * *

 

It had been a long day. Her daughter was in bed and likely not sleeping but she knew better than to get out of bed except for emergencies. Chloe finally had some time for herself. A time to reflect. Maybe clean up. Work on the case. All she wanted to do was sleep.

Her bed was so inviting she didn’t resist. So although it was still relatively early, the detective was in her pajamas and in bed before the sun had gone down.

Despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t sleep. Without the distractions of the day and the other voices pulling her out of her fantasies, her thoughts were running wild. All the could-have-beens and the if-onlys were swimming in circles, wondering what would have happened if her life had been different at any point in the last three years.

What if she hadn’t caught their first case together? What if she’d slept with him when he first offered? What if she hadn’t been poisoned? What if she’d never met Pierce - or Cain or whatever his name was? What if? What if? What if? It was all there. What choices would she have made if she had believed him from the start? Would they have had more time together? Would it have meant the same?

It was sometime after midnight when the tears first came. Just a few trickled from her eyes and on to the pillow but it opened the floodgates of emotion she’d barely been holding back all day. Alone, she could finally let it out. She tried to remain as silent as possible so as to not disturb Trixie while she pretended to sleep. Save for a few cries she smothered with her pillow, the detective quietly wept for all the things she couldn’t control. She just wanted him back.

“No more tears, Detective.”

She could feel the weight on her bed and the finger wiping away her fresh tears like he was real. But it was just more of the fantasy. She didn’t bother looking at the spot where he would be. Why get her hopes up even more?

“I know you’re not real.” She informed the spectre, keeping hope at bay.

"Of course I am."

She continued to stare at the wall, wishing away any fantasy that remained so she could get some sleep. "If you were here, you could help me on this case."

"I would talk to the sister. Love can make one do impossible things."

Of course. "The sister." She contemplated.

“She’s clearly in love with Paul. Though what appeal a disgraced editor could have is beyond me.”

“Love doesn’t have to make sense.” Her thoughts were half in the darkened bedroom and half at the crime scene, going over her interactions with the deceased’s sibling. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?

_Lucifer would have_.

"Quite right.” She could imagine the fondness in his voice as the parallels in their conversation became apparent.  “But I don't want to talk about our recent case. I want to talk about you."

“Now I know you're not real." She hugged her pillow tighter, banishing the hope that insisted on lingering.

He sighed, a phantom hand coming to brush her hair away. “I wish I was here instead.”

“Me too.” She confessed, filling the darkness with unspoken desires.

“I wish I could touch you.” She felt the fantastical warmth spread across her exposed shoulder; like a handprint.

It was enough for her to give into the fantasy. Just a little. “Mhmm.”

“Caress you.” The ghostly touch spread down her arm and up around her neck in massaging circles.

“Mmm.”

“Kiss your lips.” A hand tipped her chin towards what would have been the sweetest lips. She kept her eyes closed so as to not break the enchantment. Their lips would have touched briefly, and he would have smelt of firewood and musk. _Of course hell would smell like fire._ When their lips would have parted, he would whisper against them. “Among other things.”

She smiled into the memories of everytime she wanted to laugh at his raunchy joke but they were at a crime scene. “Of course.” She turned back to the wall, clinging to the feeling of his kiss.

But the warmth on her arm didn’t dissipate as she reminded herself of reality. The memory of him didn’t leave. Instead it whispered. “I’m sorry.” She opened her eyes, expecting the echo of his apology to leave with it. “For everything.” It didn’t. Why couldn’t she banish this fantasy the way she did all the others? Even if she gave in for just a moment, it should have left by now.

“It doesn’t matter.” She confessed. “I miss you.”

“I know.” The phantom hand caressed her arm once again and she wanted to give in again. If she kept her eyes closed, she could feel his touch more intensely. Imagine him here like she’d summoned him from hell with sheer force of will. Could she do that? Could she bring him back if she desired it more than anything? She sat up but didn’t dare look to her side. Not yet.

“Mommy?” She startled, clutching her sheet as two stocking feet stood at her closed doorway.

The thoughts in her head went flying again when Trixie interrupted the moment. "One second.”

"Happy Birthday, Chloe." His voice was moving further away and the weight beside her shifted.

_What if it was real?_

She breathed in, gathering the courage to look. If she didn’t look, she couldn’t be disappointed.

_But what if it’s real?_

"Mommy!" She exhaled, gripping the sheets for support. Reliable Trixie.

"Yes?”

“Daddy’s here. He says it’s about a case.”

Excellent. She had a new theory to explore with him. A sister she needed to interrogate. Screw sleep. She wouldn’t be able to at this point anyways.

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

A sudden gust of wind blew strands of her blonde hair out of her face. Her window was closed. But she recognized that sound. The sound of wings flapping.

"Lucifer?" She stumbled to a standing position, looking out at the open window. All was calm and quiet. The curtains barely moved. Except for a single white feather which floated to the edge of the bed and landed gently beside her. She picked it up and closed her eyes, willing him back to her side. But this time, the fantasy didn’t change. There was only silence. With a long sigh, she looked down at hell, a silent prayer to the one she lost. “Happy Birthday to me.”


End file.
